Encounter
by rosabelle317
Summary: [Set way back in season one, between 1.04 and 1.05] Sharon runs into Brenda for the first time since taking over Major Crimes.


**Notes:** This one has been in my WIP folder for _ages,_ but _someone_ (love you!) insisted that I finish it _right now immediately._ Luckily, it was almost done. So, it's always bothered me that Sharon and Brenda never had any kind of last scene together in "The Last Word." This is not quite that story (that story is also in the WIP folder), but it's something like it.

 **Encounter**

Sharon liked her little indulgences. A glass of wine after a long day. Silk sheets on the bed. Bubble baths.

This morning, the blueberry-smothered, custard-filled croissant french toast from the nearest bakery-café to work, a small treat to herself to mark her first month after taking command of Major Crimes.

She sat alone at a booth in the back corner, the ringer on her phone silenced, and savored it. The freshness of the blueberries alone was worth the complaining she had to endure while rousing Rusty out of bed twenty minutes earlier than usual. But he'd only dawdled a _little_ before getting dressed, and traffic on the way to St. Joseph's had been good. She had plenty of time.

Sharon checked her watch as she finished, just to be sure, and then stood. She had time to order another cup of tea before she headed across the street for work.

She never made it up to the counter, because Brenda Leigh Johnson stepped directly into her path.

Brenda only had eyes for her muffin. But when Sharon didn't move, Brenda eventually raised her head, her scowl at someone being in her way becoming confused surprise as she recognized Sharon.

"Sha—" She paused, clearing her throat. "Captain."

Sharon smiled. "Chief."

In her other hand, Brenda held an iced coffee topped with double the usual amount of whipped cream. She brought the straw to her mouth and took a sip. "In a manner of speakin'."

"I didn't see you after..."

"No." Brenda shifted from foot to foot. She took another swallow of coffee, and her oversized purse began to slip as she tried to hold both it and her cup. "I thought it was best I make a clean break and all."

Sharon set down her empty cup and gestured for Brenda to sit with her, and didn't remind her that her exit from the LAPD had been anything _but_ clean.

Brenda would always do what she thought was right. Sharon believed that wholeheartedly. The problem was that what was right according to Brenda and what was right according to the law had overlapped exceedingly poorly, near the end, and now people were dead.

Brenda had almost been one of them.

She had been called out to Brenda's house that night. Seen the blood painting the kitchen wall and the photographs of their injuries. They'd both been lucky. There had been a foot-shaped bruise on Brenda's thigh and some nasty purpling along her ribs, but Stroh hadn't been able to get a good grip when he'd tried to strangle her. The wound on Rusty's calf hadn't severed anything. The stitches were out now, leaving behind a pink line that Sharon thought would fade in time.

Sharon let out a deep breath. "Sit," she insisted, when Brenda failed to respond to her silent invitation.

Brenda hesitated. "Oh, all right," she said, and slid into the booth. She kept her purse slung over her shoulder. "But just for a minute. Detective—well, David, he's waitin' on me, and..."

"I understand." Sharon took her seat again. There was tea in the break room. "How's..."

"Oh, you know." Brenda fiddled with her straw, then shoved half the muffin into her mouth. "Less excitin' than what I'm used to. Heard you had a mobster. Fritz told me."

"Murdered by his teenage son."

Brenda nodded. "And _you_..."

"More exciting than what _I'm_ used to." IA was a more interesting place than most people expected, but Sharon was glad that her duties once again extended to things beyond being Brenda's babysitter.

"Fritzy was the one who told me you'd gotten it." Brenda scowled, and took another bite of her muffin. "Can't believe Will didn't have the nerve to tell me himself."

Sharon could believe it. "Who would you have chosen?" she asked, just out of curiosity.

"What?"

"To head Major Crimes," Sharon said.

"Oh, well... I—I guess I never thought about that," Brenda admitted. "I always thought I'd do the job until I was too old, and by then no one would be left except Detective Gabriel." The corner of her lip lifted. "Or Lieutenant Provenza, of course."

"He doesn't want it," Sharon said. "Not really."

"You sure about that?"

"He wants his commitment to the LAPD acknowledged," Sharon said. "And he misses you."

She was giving some thought as to how she might proceed there. She'd always favored a more egalitarian approach to management than Brenda and, truth be told, she could live with no longer being called out of bed for anything less than a dire emergency. Delegating that to someone capable was one of the perks that came with being the boss.

"You think so?" Brenda seemed pleased.

"They all do."

"At least I know you'll be doin' everything right," Brenda said at last. This time, she smiled when their eyes met.

"Yes." But Sharon remembered that Brenda had once too been called in to enforce the rules.

"And I know you'll be lookin' after them."

Sharon inclined her head.

"Oh. Seein' you reminds me." Brenda hesitated. "Fritz told me to ask you, so here I am. Askin'."

"Yes?" Sharon prompted.

"How are things goin', with Rusty?"

"Oh," Sharon said, surprised. "Surprisingly well, actually. I think he's adjusting, and he's been doing very well in school now that he's settled."

"And his mother," Brenda pressed. "Did you find her?"

"Yes and no."

"She's not dead, is she?" Brenda asked. "He won't testify if she's dead."

She had the grace to look vaguely ashamed of herself when Sharon looked at her.

"He'll testify regardless, because he has to," she said. "But no, she's not dead. She... made it as far as Bakersfield, and then went back to her boyfriend."

"That's sad," Brenda said. "Children should have their mamas."

Sharon looked away as Brenda fumbled in her purse for a tissue. She'd made some calls after Sharon Beck's disappearing act. Nothing had turned up. Gary's credit card was no longer in use. If she found her, Sharon could have her hauled back to LA and charged with child endangerment. She hadn't yet decided if that was something she wanted to pursue. Rusty's mother would likely end up in jail sooner or later, but Sharon wasn't sure she wanted to be the one to put her there. Rusty... Sharon wouldn't delude herself into thinking that he trusted her more than a smidgen, but he was getting used to her now.

"I'm not sure that's for the best, in his case." Sharon knew it had only been a month, but she was attached to the boy now, and the idea of returning him to the care of the person who had twice left him behind was unthinkable.

"No," Brenda said, crumpling her empty muffin wrapper in her hand. "Of course not. Did Stroh say anythin' to you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You interviewed him, didn't you?" Brenda leaned forward a little. "After I shot him."

In fact, she hadn't. Apart from a few choice words about Brenda, Stroh had exercised his right to remain silent and had opted not to give her his side of the story when Sharon had paid a visit to his hospital bed as part of her investigation into Brenda's OIS.

But none of that was relevant. Sharon opened her mouth to admonish Brenda for asking (of course Brenda was asking), then frowned as something else occurred to her. " _You_ haven't spoken to him, have you?" she said. "You haven't tried to contact him?"

Brenda took a loud sip of her drink.

Sharon rubbed her forehead.

"I thought about it," Brenda said at last. "Thought I'd want to. You know, to make sure he's still there."

"Chief," she said.

"I know, I know," Brenda said. "Fritz said the same thing."

Presumably, she meant that Agent Howard had reminded her that LA County Jail was a secure facility not known for losing inmates, and that Phillip Stroh couldn't up and walk out of there. He might also have helped her to remember that badgering Stroh _now_ would only endanger the case that Brenda had worked so hard to build in the first place.

"Quit worryin'," Brenda said. "Turns out, I don't wanna see him."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Brenda cleared her throat. "Listen, Captain— _Sharon—_ I'm real happy to see you, but I'm in a hurry, and—and..."

"Right." Sharon gave her watch another perfunctory check. "We should—when you have more time, of course, we should have lunch."

"Lunch?" Brenda gave her a blank look.

"Yes," Sharon said. "Like this, but later in the day."

"Oh, well..." Brenda toyed with her straw again. "It's just, the new job... I'm just real busy."

"Right," Sharon said. "I understand."

"But it's... it's good to see you, Sharon," Brenda said quietly. "Real good."

"You too, Chief."

"Take care, all right? I'll be seein' you."

Brenda made her exit then, standing and sweeping out of the café with her trash forgotten on the table.

Sharon waited until Brenda was gone before standing and collecting all of the garbage, and then she decided that she was going to have lunch with the woman if it took her six months of missed phone calls and showing up unannounced at Brenda's house with a hot fudge brownie sundae in her purse to make it happen.


End file.
